Page 31 of While You Were Spying

“Franny? You escorted—” He frowned. “Did she try to fob that colt off on you?”

“Colt?”

“Brought it home last night, and I told her to get rid of it. We have a menagerie as it is. One more creature and we can start charging admission—rival the Tower in visitors.”

Here was his mistake again. He should have never bought her that horse. He hadn’t been thinking, just wanted her away from Skerrit. It suddenly occurred to him that he might very well be the reason she’d been out roaming the countryside alone and unprotected. She’d been searching for a home for the colt. “The horse is my fault,” he admitted.

“I see.” Brigham steepled his fingers, elbows resting on the desk. Ethan was glad the viscount appeared attentive. He didn’t think the man knew of the dangerous situations in which his daughter insinuated herself.

“I found your daughter arguing with Skerrit last night. He was obviously abusing the animal. I thought the most expedient solution was to buy the colt and give him to Miss Dashing. I did not think of all the ramifications. I merely wanted to see her safely away from Skerrit.”

Brigham gave Ethan a penetrating look, and he wished he’d accepted that offer of brandy. “So you were at Skerrit’s farm last night?”

Ethan met his stare. “Yes.”

“And, coincidentally, Skerrit was found dead a few hours later.”

With his reputation, Ethan should have expected the suspicion, but he didn’t have to like it. He curled his fingers around the arms of the plush armchair. “I don’t think I like your insinuation.”

“Well, by God!” Brigham pounded a fist on his desk. “I don’t think I like the idea of my daughter and a—a man like you at Skerrit’s farm hours, maybe minutes, before the man was murdered.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Ethan almost smiled. Now they were making progress.

“I know all about you, and I don’t want my daughter associating with your kind.” He pointed his pipe at Ethan.

“Absolutely.” Francesca should be home, locked safe in her room, tucked under the covers, wearing nothing but—

Ethan blinked and shifted his attention back to Brigham.

“And Franny has no business skulking about Skerrit’s farm. I’ll speak to her about it.”

“Good.” Ethan crossed his arms and sat back. That was exactly what he’d wanted to hear.

“And don’t try to—” Brigham paused in his tirade, bushy eyebrows snapping together. “Good?”

“Excellent.” Now that Brigham and he were in agreement, he could return to Grayson Park with a clear conscience.

The viscount’s eyes narrowed. “You agree?”

“It’s obvious your daughter needs further supervision.”

“Is it?” Brigham lifted his pipe again.

“This morning I found her almost a mile from here.Alone.” He paused for emphasis. “She would have been easy prey for fortune hunters or thieves.”

“Come now, Winterbourne,” Brigham said around his pipe. “This is Hampshire, not London.” He leaned back in his chair. “Franny may be something of a free spirit, but she is quite safe in her little rambles.” He chuckled. “Too much Mrs. Radcliffe—The Mysteries of Udolfo, you know.”

Ethan sat forward, annoyed at Brigham’s casual attitude toward his daughter’s safety. “She wasn’t safe last night.”

Brigham held his pipe aloft, considering. “Point taken, but I hardly think whoever shot Skerrit would have bothered with my daughter.”

Ethan felt his temper begin to rise. Was the man really this stupid? “And what if she’d seen or overheard something she shouldn’t?”

Brigham shifted in his chair. “I said I’d speak with her. Now, if that is all...”

Ethan knew he should go; he’d done all he could. But he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to know the girl was safe and protected. The devil take him if he understood why he cared so much. She wasn’t his concern. He had smugglers to capture, the safety of his country to consider.

“That’snotall,” Ethan heard himself say. Brigham raised an eyebrow, but Ethan couldn’t seem to stop himself. “That’s far from all. Your daughter—”

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